


Collateral Damage

by chii



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-02
Updated: 2012-04-02
Packaged: 2017-11-02 22:11:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chii/pseuds/chii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Set pre-Freelancer and up to post S9. ] The first time they have sex, York ends up with Carolina’s elbow in his face, and a black eye to show for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collateral Damage

**Author's Note:**

> LMFAO I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS IS i am so sorry to anyone who reads this, it was tossed out in a mad fit of insanity. all i can say is i have the feels for these two. all of the feels. thanks to mari for dealing with my retardation for this. also i hate titles fuck thaaaaaaat

I

York remembers their relationship not by days, but by events, by all the times that Carolina lets him get a little closer. She's been so concerned about being the top for so long that the idea of taking a break-- let alone letting someone near her like this, is probably the most bizarre thing, but York prides himself on being able to crack even the toughest thing. This isn't any exception.

II 

He asks her to dinner on a night they both have leave. He may or may not have swapped schedules with one of the others to get it-- he's not confirming or denying when Carolina gives him a thin-lipped look, staring him down.

“You know we have the schedules for a reason,” she says firmly, and York raises both eyebrows in response, giving her the most _winning_ smile, thank you.

“Yeah, but I brought you _flowers_ ,” York says, and motions to the lilies sitting on her table. He likes to think he knows her well enough to know that she's thinking about how ridiculous they are, and then about how they're not easy to get, let alone to smuggle onto a ship, however he did it.

She won't ask how, but _damn_ , he wishes she would, because he's a goddamn genius if he does say so himself.

“Flowers, Carolina.” York rocks back onto his heels like a little kid, grinning shamelessly at her, reiterating the fact that she has what she considers a green monstrosity on her table. “Bet you ten bucks no other guy has brought you fl--”

Carolina's eyebrows raise, just like that, and York laughs before he can stop himself, scratching the nape of his neck, awkwardly.

“I mean-- _you know what I meant,_ okay, I bet tons of dudes brought you flowers, but none of them had a face like this, okay? _None._ This is a face you can't say no to, right?”

In fact, it's a face she's said no to multiple times, but this time, she just gives him one more hard look and agrees.

He gets to hold her hand once, and that's only when there's no one around while they're on-planet, and the denial doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it could, not when he knows that she's her, she said yes, and that's pretty much the most awesome thing ever.

It's not the end of the world-- they're still starting out, and when it boils down to it, he knows that they're both still angling for the number one spot. Distractions aren't worth it. ( Except when they are. )

III

He's gonna go crazy.

That's the only way to put it, really, when he wanders into the training room and sees her bent over, shorts and sports bra on, and okay, _okay,_ he's totally for the whole respect women and don't be a dick thing, and normally he averts his eyes but he's only human, and Carolina has the nicest ass and it's just. Not. Fair.

Teal shorts are the worst things that's ever been created- worse than genocidal aliens and people who put sugar in salt containers and people who kick puppies. They're just the worst thing ever.

“What,” Carolina calls from where she’s grabbing one of the weights up, and starting to exercise, giving him a once over, not understanding why he’s looking like he’s so confused

“Nothin’, ‘lina, s’just early,” he assures, before starting his stretches, knowing that he can get away with that excuse, considering it’s five in the morning, and that _is_ awfully early. She doesn’t seem too concerned with his excuse, though, which leaves him running laps around the exercise room while there’s no one there, finding the steady thud-thud of his feet against the floor soothing in its own way.

When she suggests sparring, York kind of wants to die inside, just a little. He almost turns her down, but she’s right when she points out that this is all a competition, but it’s also about knowing the other person so you know they’ll have your back. The best way to do that, sometimes, is to learn what they’re good at and know you can depend on them. He knows that, he gets it, but it’s frustrating, sometimes, like right now when the idea of getting up close and personal is the most maddening thing.

He does, though; he smiles at the idea and steps onto the mat with a little grin, nodding at the spot opposite of him.

“So how about we make it a competition?” he suggests, knowing she has just as much trouble as he does with resisting a challenge. He can see it in the way her shoulders roll, the way she loosens herself up, and settles into an easy fighting stance, watching him like a hawk already. “Winner gets-- how about this, huh? Winner gets a kiss.”

To her credit, she doesn’t call him an idiot right away- she gives him a look like he is one, and _then_ calls him one just with her tone alone. “That just makes it so you win,” she says dryly, already starting. She doesn’t need to wait for him to signal the start, after all. Carolina darts in, and sweeps his legs out from under him before he has a chance to do anything but gasp like a fish out of water, sprawled on his back.

“Best of three, sweetheart?” he asks, and takes her hand when she offers it, not hesitating to jerk her down and roll on top of her, slamming her shoulders against the mat with a little smirk. “One-one. Better pick up the pace, man, or you’ll--”

Carolina launches herself at him before he has a chance to say anything else, and before he knows it, they’ve been fighting a solid twenty minutes, and when it’s over, and Carolina has her hand on his throat, a soft drawl over the intercom interrupts them, leaving both of them to whip their heads up and over, taking in the sight of the Director, dressed to the nines as ever, even for as early in the morning as it is.

“Very good, Agent Carolina. You’ve earned yourself another spot up on the ranking board,” the Director says, and doesn’t miss the way that York’s shoulders go tense, the way he gives Carolina a smile that is a little strained, nowhere near the normally carelessly pleased smiles he has.

“Good job, ‘lina,” he says with a faint laugh, and squeezes her knee affectionately, before nudging her off of him. “I’ll take an IOU on that thing, huh?”

IV

The wheedling and bribing it takes to get the same weekend off is absolutely obscene, really, but he manages it, and Carolina has the grace not to look surprised when he shows up outside her door, hip cocked to the side, grinning widely.

“Got time for dinner? Burgers and a movie?” he asks, and it’s with all the surety of someone who knows that they’ll say yes.

She does, after giving him a dirty look, and she makes him wait on her cot while she changes off to the side. It’s out of the way enough that he’d have to turn to see her changing, but _jesus_ , he half wonders if he’d rather be seen lurking outside her door rather than hearing the rustle of fabric over her skin, just imagining what it looks like.

Carolina finishes after a moment, and York dies, just a little bit, when he realizes that she looks just as good in jeans as he’d thought she would.

Dragging a hand over his face, he gives her the smallest smile and wry laugh, and opens the door for her. “Off we go, then.”

As it turns out, burgers and a movie is pretty much the best thing he could have done. It’s one of the more populated areas, so it’s not too hard to grab a burger, and on-planet means they have access to everything, which leaves them sprawled on the grass an hour later, watching a movie on the projection screen. York’s already seen it half a dozen times; he’s always had a thing for old movies, but Carolina hasn’t, and halfway through, she’s sitting up, elbows on her knees, really _watching_ it. The little curl of pleased warmth doesn’t go away, not until the whole movie is over and York bumps his shoulder playfully against hers, before flopping back on the grass and just inhaling the scent of it

“Good, huh?”

Carolina glances back, sprawling out on the grass too, while people get up and mill about, visiting the concession stand, leaving enough privacy to allow low conversations to be unheard. “It was interesting. I can’t remember the last time I’d seen a movie, anyway. At least, not in a theatre.”

She hops up a moment later, though, reaching her hand out and down to him with the clear expectation that he’s going to take it, and nods at the sidewalk.

“Come on. I saw a bar down the road that had pool. Let’s go, winner takes next mission.”

He’s never been able to turn down a challenge (let alone a challenge from a pretty girl) so he nods, hopping to his feet and walking down the road with her, their shadows swallowed up by the lights and sounds of the district.

 

She lets him kiss her by the end of the night after they’d both split a pitcher of beer and the buzz was just barely lingering, their ears ringing with the loud bar music. It didn’t seem like it’d be her kind of place, not really, but York couldn’t deny that she looked like she belonged there, leaning over the pool table and absolutely _kicking his ass_.

“Damn,” York sighs when it’s all over, the two of them walking back to be picked up, knowing what’s gonna happen if he finishes his sentence. Carolina glances over, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, I just didn’t expect you to be so good with balls.”

He entirely deserves it when she grabs him by the belt ( _awesome?_ ) and tosses him into the bags of trash dumped in a sketchy alley way, and just keeps on walking.

“ _That was a joke!_ I just meant you’re better than _me_ with them!” York calls as he digs himself out and-- okay, he deserved it, sure, but that doesn’t stop him from running and _tackling_ her in a standing hug, rubbing trash all over her, probably, nearly getting a bloody nose for his trouble.

 

The two of them make it back onto the transport, with the marine giving them both a once over as Carolina stalks past him and tosses herself back into the seat, kicking her legs up onto the spot next to her.

“...I felt like standing anyway,” York says cheerfully, reaching down to wipe a smudge off her cheek.

V

Carolina kisses him back halfway through him practicing giving her a mission-brief, hard and fast and like she’s stealing the words out away from him and he really can’t object.

The ranking process begins at the start of every mission- they start making their mark as soon as whoever is going over the briefing begins. York won’t screw that up, he _can’t._ He’d asked her to stand there while he rattled off the mission to her, letting him practice before giving the briefing in front of everyone else, and-- well, this isn’t exactly helping, but he’s sure as hell not going to say no when she’s carding her hands into his hair and kissing the intelligence right out of him, thank you very much.

Right when he actually gathers up the remainder of his brains, and realizes _what’s happening_ , she’s already pulling back and licking her lips, smug as all hell, leaning back a moment later, with no intent to do anything else.

“Is this sabotage?” York asks finally, dragging his hand over his face, just rolling his eyes when she snorts at that, waving him on to continue.

VI

The idea that Carolina is better than him isn’t exactly a surprise, nor is it as irritating as he thought it would be.

Instead of frustrating him, it’s almost comfortable. He always competes with her, always tries his best, but she’s always just a hair better and that much is a constant, it’s something he can depend on. He’d rather it like this-- he trusts having her at his back, he knows her better than anyone else. For a while, things settle into this sort of comfortable, easy state, where they practice in the morning, sometimes with or without onlookers, eat breakfast, and exercise at night, when it’s late enough that no one else is around.

Once she gets put in charge of mission briefings-- a much better idea in his mind, because he was never as good at them as she was, and that’s okay-- she’s the one practicing with him. He sprawls out on her bed, and listens to her talk, and presses his lazy grin into the pillow that smells just like her, watching her pace back and forth, going over the ins and the outs, and when it’s all finished, she just presses her palms to her eyes, exhaling harshly.

That’s enough to get him sitting up a little, reaching out, catching her by the elastic of her pants, and tugging her onto the cot, too, so she’s sitting down and he’s curled around her, still on his side.

“What’s up, boss?” he asks quietly, waiting just a moment, and once she doesn’t jerk away, he drags rough fingers over her hip gently, smoothing over the cloth of her shirt. “You’re doin’ good, just like usual, I wouldn’t lie about that.”

There’s something to be said about the little burst of pride when Carolina tips her head and just looks at him a moment, and for the way she just smiles tiredly at him, leaning back. “You _couldn’t_ lie about that, you mean.”

“Potato, potahtoooo,” he drawls, and cups her hip gently, thumb smoothing over the warmth of her skin, endlessly pleased when she doesn’t tense-- she relaxes, instead. “Just ‘cause I suck at it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t all the same.”

From there, it’s just the easy silence, with Carolina leaning back against him, and York running his hand up and down her back, content, all the way up until there’s a crash and a yell out in the hallway, along with what sounds like running.

“That’s _against regulations!_ ” They hear Wash yelling, and Carolina buries her face in both hands as York smothers his laughter against her shoulder, his own shaking.

“So is _yelling in the hallway_ , but I don’t see that stopping--” Connie says cattily, and York can’t stop his laughter at that point, letting Carolina slip away to go fix the issue while he muffles himself with a hand against his mouth, knowing the shit they’d get if the others found him in there with her. The place runs on rumors, sometimes, and there’s no need to feed them.

“Go get ‘em, mom,” York murmurs just loudly enough for her to hear, and has to drag her pillow against his face when she throws her holster squarely between his legs, leaving him torn between gasping and laughing, curled up on her bed.

VII

It’s entirely on accident (maybe) that he ends up kissing her on the mats; it’s not his fault that her winning gets him all hot and bothered when he should really be more concerned with winning himself.

It’s three in the morning, though, and it’s the only time the two of them can get to do this sort of thing, without the worries of it being something the Director will rate them on, or that the other agents will start to talk about.

Carolina slams him down on the mat with a smug look, and York can’t be held responsible for his actions, because she’s fucking gorgeous like this, red hair in her eyes, cheeks flushed, and he thinks of a million different comparisons, each one more ridiculous than the last. He doesn’t remember any of them, though, not when she just looks at him a moment and then slams his wrists above his head and straddles him, kissing him hard enough their teeth clink together faintly and York strains against her, chasing the kisses every time she draws back and mouths more at his jaw.

“Let me touch you.”

It doesn’t even sound like him, not with his voice rough like sandpaper. He could drag his arms up, of course- it wouldn’t take much to roll them, but he doesn’t want to, and Carolina doesn’t seem like she’s too intent on that either, leaning in and licking a hot stripe up his throat, sending him arching under her with a stifled little groan. There are a million better places to do this that aren’t the floor of the practice room, but Carolina doesn’t seem to care and she’s hot and soft and goddamn perfect as she squirms on top of him, mouth easing over the dip of his collarbone.

“‘lina.” York arches just a little, and she shifts her hips up with this fluid little roll he’d be impressed with if it weren’t so frustrating as it denies him of any friction against his partially hard cock.

Maybe he’s lucky she didn’t let it go any further, because nearly a second later the patch comes through from the Director, ordering two different groups to report to the main conference room.

Carolina looks at him for just a moment, and York just wilts, smacking his head back against the floor with a heavy sigh, just laying there. “Jesus Christ, it’s three in the morning. I can’t--”

“Come on, York.”

He takes her hand when she offers it, adjusting his pants with a sour look, hoping the very idea of a meeting at three in the morning is enough to kill any sort of erection he has.

Carolina glances back as if she realizes his problem, and slides her hands into her pockets, giving him an innocent smile in the elevator.

“Just think of Wash in a skimpy bikini,” she says just before the elevator dings, announcing their floor, and York presses his face into his hands with a soft noise of horror as they go to meet the Director.

VIII

The first time they have sex, York ends up with Carolina’s elbow in his face, and a black eye to show for it.

It’s not intentional-- he doesn’t think sex is exactly grounds for a black eye considering how Carolina’s riding him and moaning and arching like he’s the best goddamn thing she’s felt in a long, long time, but it happens and York swallows down the little shout of pain and just keeps going. He grips her hips tighter, pressing bruises into her skin despite his best attempts not to, and just drinks in the sight of red hair sticking to sweatslick skin, of breasts bouncing with each little thrust, and he thinks he dies a little there on the floor of her quarters, watching her move.

“You’re goddamn gorgeous,” York murmurs and is rewarded with the faintest tip of her lips, almost a smile as she slides her hands down and grips his wrists, pushing them up over his head as she stretches over his body and kisses him until they’re both gasping for air. He’d roll them, he really would, but it’s too good being able to see her like this, watching her slide up again, all muscles and gracefulness, arching over him and taking just as much as she’s giving.

They have condoms, of course, but Carolina draws herself off before either of them come, and York doesn’t hesitate, he just rolls, crawling up after her when she slides onto the bed and she probably meant for him to fuck her while she’s in it, but he’s too busy kneeling at the foot of it, pushing her thighs on top of his shoulders and cupping her hips with large hands.

“S’okay, right?” York asks, pressing teeth against the inside of her thigh, and is rewarded with Carolina shivering, her hands jerking the sheets before she slides them down and fists them in his hair, pulling.

“ _Now._ ”

He smothers his laugh against her knee with a soft kiss, and doesn’t drag it out, not when she’s flushed and squirming and _certainly_ not when she arches in this gorgeous curve, rocking into his mouth as he licks into her and rolls his eyes up to watch her face.

“Fingers, too.” Carolina gives orders on the field just as much as she does in the bedroom, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. She pushes at him for a moment and lets out a half-laugh when he moves his arm up and her leg slides off, leaving her to ease it back up as he presses two fingers into her. “ _Yes_.”

His jaw starts to get tired by the time she’s making softer, needier noises, and he pulls back to kiss her thighs, working three fingers into her between murmurs about how good she feels, how gorgeous she is and how much he’s wanted this. It’s Carolina that pulls away first, though, dragging him up against her, tipping back onto the cot and dragging him with him, leaving him sliding his fingers out of her just to keep from hurting her and he’s pretty sure any blood at that was anywhere in his head drops straight south when she yanks him into a kiss.

The angle isn’t as good like this- he can’t go as deep, can’t get as many fingers in as easily but she doesn’t seem to mind, riding his hand just as hard as she’d ridden him earlier and all it takes is consistent, light pressure against her clit before she’s gasping into his mouth and coming around his fingers, hot and wet and _jesus fucking christ_ he really hopes she’s going to let him come now.

“Good?” York murmurs against her lips, dropping it down to the lazy, soft, sweet kisses as he slides his fingers out of her and just keeps touching between her thighs instead, rubbing idly against her thigh. He’s pretty sure that even if he somehow doesn’t get off right now, just the sheer memory of Carolina dragging him up and kissing him like that after he’d gone down on her is enough to last him for a long, long time.

Which-- well, is a good thing, considering he gets a few more lazy kisses in and then the intercom goes off and he stops dead, hearing their names called off the roll to report to the main conference room in ten minutes.

“Oh my god.”

York just stares at her in disbelief, eyes wide, fingers stilling between her thighs, and it’s apparently a pathetic enough look because Carolina smothers her disbelieving laugh and pushes him over, peeling the condom off of him and sliding her lips down around him, groping for his hand to curl it around his dick too, in a clear indication of _help me._

He comes in record time, really, which he’s not sure if it’s a good thing or a faintly embarrassing one, and he just chalks it up to the fact that the Director is expecting them in seven minutes and they still need to shower. “First one done gets--” He doesn’t even get to finish before Carolina’s sliding off of him, the whole room smelling of sex and the sheets damp with-- well. 

York staggers after her, skidding into the bathroom, and slapping her ass playfully just because he can. The idea itself seems like a funny enough one, except he’s underestimated how slick the floors are and if his eye wasn’t going to be black before, it sure as hell will be now, along with a sore nose for good measure, apparently.

“Guess you shouldn’t run on wet floors or slap things that don’t belong to you,” Carolina says tartly, rinsing her hair with quick motions, and then easing back out a moment later, leaving York clutching his face and soaping own with his other hand.

They make it out into the hall in record time, with Carolina leaving first and then York, and along the way, he runs into Wash, the other man giving him a cautious once-over.

“ _What_?” York asks, and then answers his question for himself. “Dude, if you say anything about sparring off the grounds being against regulations, I’m going to probably toss you out an airlock.”

To his credit, Wash barely flinches. He just glances from York’s eyes to his nose, and shrugs. “I was just going to ask if you liked getting your ass kicked by Carolina or if you couldn’t help it.”

“ _Airlock, Washington. Out a goddamn airlock._ ”

IX

As much as he and Delta become fast friends, he quickly realizes that having a whole other person lurking about in his head is kind of a giant cockblock.

He and Carolina are too busy for anything, but when he finds his hoodie dropped off on his bed, and realizes she was wearing it from having borrowed it earlier that morning, and he forgets to move it, he wakes up with an erection he can’t quite blame on the mornings.

Nothing, he learns, kills an erection faster than Delta popping up over his waist and tilting his head.

“Do all of the agents have such thoughts and dreams about Agent Carolina?” he asks curiously, and this all on its own does far more to kill any arousal faster than imagining Wash in a bikini did.

“God, I hope not,” York mutters, and slams the pillow down over his face, hoping he can smother himself.

X

All good things come to an end, though.

The arrival of Texas, the AI-- all of it is building up to something, from what York can tell, except he just can’t figure out...what, really. He can’t shake that bad feeling, no matter what he does, and all the logic in the world doesn’t help him figure it out, doesn’t make him feel any better.

Carolina sneaks into his room one night, and that alone makes things worse, not better, because she’s never done that before. Never.

“...What’re you--” York asks, feeling her groping around in the sheets, feeling up his leg and to his chest, slowly collapsing against his side with a muffled noise as twin holograms flicker up above them. He always sleeps with his bad eye against the pillow

“Delta.”

“Delta get up get up.”

Delta flickers into existence a moment later, and York separates it out just like he always does, curling around Carolina, dragging the covers over their head while the AI speak, uneasy.

“Sweetheart?”

“I just-- I needed some sleep.” Her voice is too low, too rough to be any kind of comforting, and York tightens his grip around her, scooting over to press tight against the wall to give her all the space he can while she tucks her forehead against his bare chest. He understands that the AI can get overwhelming at times, but he’d always been able to sleep through Delta’s computing, always been able to tune it out after a while. That she couldn’t made him more uncomfortable than he liked.

“Sure thing,” York murmurs, curling an arm around her waist, securely, his other arm stretching out so she can use it as a pillow and he can smooth his fingers through her hair. “D can keep talking to the twins and we’ll get some sleep, yeah?”

Carolina doesn’t respond, she just grips his hip tight enough that he wonders if he’ll have bruises pressed there, and doesn’t fall asleep for another hour.

 

XI

“I’m just saying,” Connie protests, and York’s eyes widen as he hears a fist slam into the table, catching sight of Carolina leaning in, talking low and harsh and quiet, enough that even Connie shuts up and looks stonefaced, picking her meal up and moving to the other side of the cafe.

She brushes past York on the way there, and it takes him a moment to register what she says as he wanders over to get his own meal, the words hanging sour and dark in the pit of his stomach.

“ _She’s losing it_.”

York doesn’t want to consider the possibility of her ever being right.

( she’s just tired. )

XII

Carolina’s always been the one he can fight without ever having to worry about hurting her, and while it’s now Carolina and Texas, things settled into a comfortable sort of rhythm where the three of them are at the top and York takes care not to push his nose into business that is best not knowing.

All’s well and good until they’re sparring again, and when he goes to reload with the ammunition given, ducking around a pillar and taking aim, the recoil is too much, it’s too strong.

“WARNING. Agent York, cease fire--”

Delta’s warnings are screaming in his ear even as he drops the gun and jerks back, trying to mentally catalogue how many shots he’d fired, trying to figure out why she hadn’t moved, why she was just standing there oh god she was just standing there and those weren’t the right bullets and she’s not moving she’s not moving she’s--

“ _Carolina_!” All thoughts of subtlety, of hiding some things and being careful, all of that is gone as he bolts to her side and crouches, jerking his helmet off because it’s too distracting, too much. The sounds of everything else just bleed out, and he’s too busy with checking her over, running his hands over her shoulder, trying to figure out where he’d hit, only to see a steadily growing puddle of blood under her shoulder as she groans.

The medics are already there by the time he has the mind to call for them-- courtesy of Delta and the other Freelancers watching above as everything goes down, and just like that, the mess is cleaned up and York stands in line with the rest of them, helmet still on the ground, blood smeared on his forehead where he’d pushed his hair back.

“That will be all,” the Director says, and York jerks his head up when someone claps him on the shoulder, barely realizing there had been speaking. All it takes is one look up to the flicker of soft blue and white to realize what he’s seeing, to realize why that hand on his shoulder wasn’t a congratulatory one.

1\. TEXAS  
2\. YORK  
3\. WYOMING  
4\. MAINE  
5\. CAROLINA

York thinks he’s going to be sick.

XIII

“I would think you would be thankful for the...opportunity,” Church murmurs, leaning back in his seat, just watching the other man, taking note of the swipe of blood on his skin, the way he’s practically vibrating with tension. He doesn’t need the Counselor to read a soldier to him, he’s plenty capable of doing it himself.

“With all due respect, sir,” York says roughly, and feels Delta slide soft and static in his mind, easing him down from the state he was in, because he’s good at that, he’s always been good at that. “That isn’t how I wanted to get an opportunity to move up.”

He wonders if the Director can even understand that-- he doesn’t seem to, not from the way he tilts his head, and just looks at him like he’s an insect pinned to a wall, like he’s something to be studied.

“It was a test for Agent Carolina as much as it was for you, Agent York. In science, sometimes hypotheses are tested and proven wrong; in this event, that was just the case. It’s no fault of yours that Agent Carolina cannot handle the gifts she’s been given. We were doing her a favor, showing what she was and was not capable of here in a controlled environment, rather than on the field.”

It’s only Delta’s cool presence at the back of his mind that keeps him from arguing, keeps him from lashing out. He thins his lips, biting back anything he wants to say and focuses on a deep breath in and then out, jerking his head in some rough approximation of a nod.

“If that’s all, sir.”

Church recognizes the blatant dismissal, but he doesn’t chase it, he just inclines his head faintly and watches York leave.

END.

“I told you,” CT whispers as York stalks past, and he whirls, gripping her shoulder and shoving her against the wall, hands shaking with anger.

“Don’t. Do not even start with me, CT.”

She’s well and truly scared, Delta reads it in her pulse, in the size of her pupils, in her breathing patterns-- in everything, and all York can think is _good._ She should be scared, at least half as scared as he is, if not more.

He drops his hand from her shoulder after a moment and turns down the hallway before he loses his temper again. York finds Carolina not in the medbay where she should be, not in her room where he expects, but sitting in the shower, steam fogging up the mirrors. “--sweetheart?” She hasn’t had enough time to be patched up, has she? He doesn’t even know how badly she was injured, not after they’d taken her away, but there’d been enough blood that--

“...Jesus, Carolina, you shouldn’t be in the shower,” York murmurs, already stripping out of his hoodie, but stepping into the spray just like that, jeans and socks and shoes all soaked as he reaches out a hand to turn the water off, and kneels next to her in the mess, heedless of how naked she is. The doctors patched her up, made the wounds look not so vicious, but there’s bruising along her stomach, along her arms, along her chest, yellow and purple and ugly, and he can’t help but reach out and trace his fingers over them, eyes wide. “I thought you were blocking, not-- Carolina--”

“Looked worse than it really was,” she mumbles, letting him scoop her up into his arms, biting her lip when he jostles her ribs. He doesn’t bother with any clothing, not right now, he just wraps her in a sheet, gently, and strips down himself, snagging her robe and tugging it on, settling on the bed. It takes some shifting, but he gets her head pillowed in his lap, and a quick glance at her neck reveals the AI slots empty, for the moment.

The gunshot hadn’t been nearly as bad as he thought-- it was a thick line along her shoulder now thanks to the sped-up healing process, but it was still angry and red, and stood out against the paleness of her shoulder as she leaned against him, breathing shallowly. It hadn’t been a full through and through, but the previous beating before had just led up to it, really. York drags a hand through his hair, and then just sits there, staring at her ceiling, listening to her breathe, slow and soft and faintly labored.

“They’re taking the AI.”

Somehow, York can’t find it in him to be too depressed about that, gently twisting her hair back, braiding it idly as she talks, just to get it out of her face. “Oh, yeah?”

“And taking me off the active roster.”

 _That_ makes him go still, smoothing a hand down her back gently, forcing a laugh. “Hey, you oughta be glad they ain’t sending you out there just after, okay? Rest up, it’s like temp leave, and...and y’know, it’ll work out. It’ll be okay. I promise I’ll bring all our ducklings home and in one piece and. And it’ll be okay.”

Delta hums low and even in the back of his mind.

“No, it won’t,” Carolina says, soft and even.

_No, Agent York. It likely will not._

York doesn’t have the heart to correct either of them.


End file.
